


Turmeric & Fenugreek

by igrockspock



Category: Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort Food, Established Relationship, F/M, Food as a Metaphor for Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28347603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/pseuds/igrockspock
Summary: Logan Echolls can land an FA-18 Hornet on a pitching carrier deck in the blackass night, but he can’t cook to save his life.  For Veronica, he's going to learn.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 19
Kudos: 90
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Turmeric & Fenugreek

**Author's Note:**

  * For [APgeeksout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/gifts).



Logan Echolls can land an FA-18 Hornet on a pitching carrier deck in the blackass night, but he can’t cook to save his life.

Well, that’s not entirely true. If his life were actually on the line, he could do an okay steak and potatoes or spaghetti and meatballs. If all the restaurants in the whole United States closed suddenly, he wouldn’t die, he’d just get scurvy.

So really, he’s the not the _last_ person who should be wandering Whole Foods on a Sunday night, rustling up the ingredients for a curry vindaloo. But he’s pretty close to the end of the line.

Which is irrelevant, because Veronica’s sick and she wants it. And she won’t rest, so food is the next best thing he can give her.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought the whole point of not being a lawyer was to avoid slaving away all hours of the night,” he’d said. He tried to tug a stack of invoices out of her hand, but her grip wouldn’t budge.

“Au contraire, the point was to save my soul by fighting crime _and_ simultaneously avoid defaulting on my student loans.” She’d shooed him away from her desk with a wave of her hand. “And to do that, I have to work.”

She punctuated the statement with a sneeze, followed by a glower that positively dared him to comment on her illness. Since Logan valued his life, he decided not to tell her that her voice was adorable when her nose was congested. Instead, he said, “What if you let me take care of the bills this month? The Echolls family fortune isn’t what it used to be, but I can keep the lights on.”

Veronica only rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a sugar daddy.”

“And here I thought your independence was a clever ruse to get the last of my trust fund.”

Veronica made the mistake of sitting down the stack of invoices, and he put his hand over it firmly, maybe even flexed his large and manly bicep a little. 

“Do me a favor, tell me what you _do_ need.” He batted his eyes. “Just this once.”

“Fine.” A smile tugged at the corners of Veronica’s mouth. “Indian food. Something spicy.”

That he could handle. There was a stack of takeout menus in the kitchen drawer, just waiting for this sort of emergency.

Veronica sighed wistfully. “My roommate Priya used to make the best food when I was sick.”

Logan, fool that he was, did not drive to India Palace. He drove to the grocery store.

And now he’s staring at an incomprehensible wall of spices at Whole Foods, and he’s ninety-nine percent sure the staff is getting stoned in the back parking lot, so there’s nobody to ask for help. Well, not anyone here anyway. He can still call for backup.

“Hey,” he says as soon as the phone’s finished dialing. “If you had to choose between Balti curry mix and regular curry powder, what would you choose?”

There’s an odd lull on the other end of the line, and then Cindy Mackenzie says, “Logan, is that some kind of code for ‘Veronica’s been kidnapped by a crime lord, come now?’ Or are you high?”

“Fuck,” he says. “Wrong Mac.”

He was aiming for _his_ Mac, Chris McDonald, his actual wingman, whose name is now located right next to Veronica’s Mac on his speed dial -- just in case Veronica does, in fact, get kidnapped by a crime lord. 

“Not high, no danger,” he says quickly, because he doesn’t want her to worry on either count. “Just making some curry vindaloo for Veronica.”

There’s another long pause on the other end of the line, and she says, “You know you don’t have to try this hard, right?”

“I might need a little clarification on that one,” he says, trying to conceal his impatience. He’s just discovered there’s also maharaja style curry powder and thai curry powder, and the countdown till Veronica has a hangry meltdown is ticking.

“Look, I know I wasn’t always the biggest fan of your relationship, so it kind of pains me to say this, but I’m a big girl,” Mac says. “I can admit it when I’m wrong. And you should know you don’t have to try this hard with Veronica. She’s looking for a smart ass adrenaline junkie, not a master chef. She likes you the way you are, and from where I sit you’re already doing a good job.”

That’s more words than any of Veronica’s friends have said to him since the reunion, and he’s surprised that the relief washing through him is strong enough to make him want to lean against the shelving for support.

“Thanks,” he says, and hopes it doesn’t sound sarcastic. Conveying emotion openly and sincerely is a project he and his therapist are still working on. “But supposing I wanted to be a little overkill about this one, should I go for the regular curry powder or the fancy kind?”

“You, sir, are taking off without a flight plan,” Mac says.

“Those are fighting words,” Logan answers, willing to banter a little now that he knows he’s on friendly territory.

“Well, clearly you didn’t look up the recipe beforehand, or you would know there’s no curry powder in curry vindaloo.” Logan erupts into a stream of profanity, but Mac continues placidly. “It has a mix of a lot of different spices. Lucky for you, my google skills are flawless. I already found the best recipe, and I’m sending it to you now.”

Logan thinks he really wouldn’t mind having Mac in the control tower, always calm and collected and ready with a solution to every problem. Then he winces as he scrolls through the list of spices lighting up his phone. Turmeric, coriander, paprika, fenugreek, and that’s only the first few ingredients. Clearly, his usual stash of salt and pepper isn’t going to get the job done.

“What the hell is fenugreek?” he mutters, forgetting Mac is still on.

“It looks like little yellow seeds,” she says. “And Logan, you know you can buy little baggies in the bulk section, right? That way you won’t have to spend $64 on spices.”

“Yeah, I totally knew that,” he says. Maybe it even sounds convincing. Grocery budgeting and conveying emotion openly: two grand skills to learn before the trust fund runs dry.

***

“Soup’s on,” Logan says, lounging against the door of Veronica’s office later that night. She says he’s unusually good at leaning on things, so he makes a point of doing it often.

Her cheeks are flushed now, like she has a fever, and he wonders if he’s a cretin for finding it attractive.

“You sure you want to eat something with a whole teaspoon of cayenne?” he asks. Adrenaline junkie or no, he doesn’t really care for spicy food on a good day, much less one when he feels like shit.

“Hell yeah I do,” Veronica says. Then she narrows her eyes. “A teaspoon of cayenne is very precise. Did you actually…” Her voice trails off, like she can’t conceive of him cooking.

“Make it?” he asks, tugging her into the kitchen. “See for yourself, little big belly.”

She presses a hand to her heart when she sees the pot on the stove, surrounded by measuring spoons and a half-dozen tiny baggies filled with spices whose names Logan hadn’t known two hours ago.

“Why Logan Echolls, I do declare,” she says, affecting a fake southern accent that he remembers from high school.

“Anything for my lady,” he answers, making it sound like a joke even when it really isn’t. The truth is, he gets what it’s like to be let down by the people you care about, how hard it is to trust anyone after that. And even at his worst moments, even when he had absolutely no right to ask for her help, she’d shown up for him. Now he’s going to show up for her every way he can, big or small, until he earns her trust.

Veronica’s happily shoveling red-orange sauce into a bowl when she glances up at him, looking mystified. “Why did you do all this?”

He shrugs. “Because you wanted it,” he says, and he doesn’t back off when his voice wobbles a little. Maybe it’s not everything he should tell her, not yet, but it’s a start.


End file.
